


Carry On

by chucklingChemist



Category: Persona 5
Genre: 2/2, Also Death from Sandman is Here, Angst, Crying, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mourning, Mutual Pining, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Shameless Homestuck Reference, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29170815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucklingChemist/pseuds/chucklingChemist
Summary: One year after the death of his rival, Ren finally goes and properly grieves.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	Carry On

**Author's Note:**

> Man this is barely eeking it into the technical "2/2" deadline, as I'd been sitting back and forth on whether or not I wanted to write something for the day, but decided "hey, I wrote a Homestuck drabble a few 4/13's ago in a few hours on an hour lunch and some time after work, why not?" after seeing all the art and fic.
> 
> This turned out....a bit longer than that. And debatably more self indulgent. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy though, a bit late or not!
> 
> (Also I a apologize for writing this instead of the Addams Family Thief, as I'm currently training managers how to do parts of my job, I've reserved work on that fic for when I'm sitting in the back observing them)

“You sure you want to do this?” 

Ren nodded at Morgana, his expression blank despite the thoughts raging through his head. “Dr. Maruki said it was a good idea,” he said. It didn’t sound entirely convincing in his head, but it did the job well enough keeping Morgana from pushing any further. The cat hopped into his bag without another word, ready to make his way to their destination. 

Morgana knew how hard this time of year was for him, after all. He saw him back in November, as well as his state merely days prior. He knew how, despite how little Ren dreaded the upcoming day, he’d much rather be miserable in Tokyo where the world felt too big and loud rather than empty and helpless back at his parents house. If nothing else, in Tokyo he felt connected to Akechi’s death. If he so chose, Penguin Sniper and the Jazz Jin were a simple train ride away. The owner of the Jazz Jin seemed especially sympathetic to Ren’s grief. It led him to wonder on more than one occasion that, if circumstances were different, Akechi could’ve ended up living in the basement of a late night jazz club at the same time Ren lived in the attic of an early morning cafè. 

Not that Ren was going to either of those places today. 

Going to Aoyama Cemetery wasn’t even his idea. It was Maruki’s. He suggested the notion of a cemetery visit as a way to move on from Akechi’s death -- both the _real_ death in the engine room, and the death of the false illusion Maruki created to theoretically give Ren the option to repair their relationship. He wasn’t wholly sure if Maruki’s suggestion came from a place of empathy (having effectively lost Rumi) or guilt (by bringing him back in the first place, albeit still a version that ultimately Ren wanted to see again), but he accepted his help all the same. Maruki meant well, after all. Not only that, he made a good point when he said Ren never got the chance to do this last year, what with the whirlwind of just trying to get caught up in what happened in the _real_ world only to immediately move back in with his parents. 

And well, if Ren was going to forgive and grieve the man who attempted to kill him to get out of awful circumstances, and trust that man with helping him get the world back on the right tracks, he could certainly trust a man doing what he thought was right then, and make up for what he did then.

He wasn’t sure if he was thankful or not for the mild crowds as he traveled his way to his first stop. As much as he wanted the quiet to let him sit and stew, he simultaneously wanted noise and distractions to make him think about literally anything else. A conversation about the ongoing investigation into the United Future Party, whatever the newest inexplicable western meme that reached their shores, news about the Shadow of the Colossus remake coming out in a few days, _something_ other than the deafening silence filled only with Ren mentally replaying every conversation they had during that long month. Every little word, which he still clung onto like a lifeline, that escaped between the two of them. All the while, they morphed from rivals to friends to something else entirely he never quite explained.

Futaba called it a kismesis. Ren admittedly wasn’t sure what it was (and still wasn’t, a Google search led him to a bizarrely drawn American comic far too long for him to bother reading), but Akechi -- in such a annoyingly, yet wonderfully _him_ \-- smug “I know something you don’t” tone -- assured him Futaba’s judgement wasn’t wholly inaccurate. Whether that was actually their relationship or merely the relationship Maruki thought Ren wanted was another issue, and one that he wasn’t ready to parse out yet.

“Shibuya. This is Sibuya.”

Ren let out a sigh of relief. Good. A proper distraction.

His thoughts turned reminiscing to practical as he got out of the train and made his way to Rafflesia. It surprised him just how well he still navigated the whole place. Sure, it had been nearly a year since he lived in Tokyo at this point, yet his skills making his way straight to flower shop hadn’t ebbed nearly as much as he thought they would. It was a far cry from his first day, wandering around and glued to his phone for his sole proper map through Shibuya, too anxious to ask anyone for help in case news of his criminal record somehow reached even random strangers in the station. 

When he finally made his way to Rafflesia, the owner of the shop gave him a wide smile. “Ah! Amamiya-kun. It’s been a while. How have you been?”

“I’m alright, thanks.” Ren shoved his hands in his pockets, immediately fiddling with Akechi’s glove that he brought (just in case), and reflected her smile with a more subdued one. “I’m actually here as a customer today. I need a bouquet. Two, actually.”

“Oh! Wonderful!” She clapped her hands together. “What are you looking for?”

“Um…” he paused, the words _peace lilies_ dying in his throat. If he said as much, she’d instantly know what these were for. But then again, people come here all the time for things like this. Ren made a couple bouquets for funerals himself, back when Rafflesia was a regular part time job. People die, after all. And she didn’t know it was _him_. “I need some flowers for a couple gravestones. So something for mourning. And,” he swallowed thickly, ignoring the lump forming in his throat, “maybe some purple hyacinths in one of them? Can you do that?”

Her smile turned gentle. “Of course I can. Is that all?”

“Yeah.”

It didn’t take long before she had two full bouquets, one filled with white lilies, orchids and purple gladioli and a similar one with white lilies and purple hyacinths intermixed with baby’s breath wrapped in light blue paper for him. Ren took them both and paid, doing his best to ignore the quiet, “sorry for your loss” as the transaction finished and he left for the next train to Aoyama Cemetery.

“How do you know which one to go to anyway?” Morgana finally asked as they boarded the next train. It was frustratingly empty again for the time of day and area they were at, so the distraction was appreciated.

“A hunch,” Ren said.

“A hunch, huh?” Morgana hummed, which came out somewhere between a meow and a growl, if house cats could make such a noise. “If you’re certain.”

He _wasn’t_ certain, not really, but he also wasn’t about to get Futaba or someone else involved in his personal business to affirm it. They, quite understandably of course, didn’t exactly _like_ him. They only put up with him because Ren liked him, and last year the two of them had a mutual interest. Outside of Ren, the only ones who might go past tolerating Akechi were Sumire and Ann. 

God, he could still hear Akechi now, dryly lamenting the mortifying experience of being pitied by _Takamaki and Yoshizawa_ of all people. Or, maybe he would be okay with Ann. They’re both celebrities, to some degree. And in Maruki’s world, he remembered Ann gaining some level of respect in his eyes when she stated under no uncertain terms Kamoshida was spared not out of some love of humanity or mercy, but because death was too kind for him. 

Sumire though…well, if could hear his dry laments, he definitely heard Akechi remarking on her notable _lack_ of presence attached to Ren’s hip. He always was weird when she was around, or the conversation mentioned her, although he never actually said why. Just smiled that humorless smile and changed the topic.

The memories draw a smile from his face despite himself. Ren had half a mind to think he was jealous or something, but more likely he disliked her on principle. Sumire initially chose to live in Maruki’s reality, however briefly. Akechi fought against knowing from the start he was dead.

Yeah, that’s probably all it was. 

The rest of the trip was blissfully short. In no time at all, he found himself standing under the barren cherry trees, reading grave after grave for anything possibly reading as _Akechi_. It must’ve been quite a sight to onlookers, some young adult awkwardly holding two bouquets of flowers checking every single headstone for a name that might not even be there instead of knowing ahead of time or, God forbid, asking. After a few minutes, Morgana sighed and hopped out of the bag to help, to no avail. 

“Why do you even think Akechi placed his own headstone here, anyway?” Morgana eventually asked.

“It’s not his,” Ren said. “At least, I don’t _think_ it’s his.”

Morgana whipped his head around. “What?”

_“If half the Phantom Thieves are too busy today to go to the Palace, why are you contacting me?” Akechi’s usual, more sardonic, tone crackled over the phone, like he had some sort of bad reception wherever he was._

_“I thought maybe we could blow off some steam and shoot some pool?” Ren ran a shaky hand through his hair, smiling sheepishly. Why was he nervous? There was nothing to be nervous about. They’ve been out alone all the time. This wasn’t any different. “Technically you still owe me a rematch with your left hand.”_

_“Oh actually I’m…” Akechi sucked in a breath on the other side of the line. It was hard not to notice how soft his voice suddenly sounded. Soft and small. “I’m actually taking care of some unfinished business in Aoyama Cemetery today.” There was another pause over the line, longer than before. He was calculating something, no doubt. “Family related. Sorry.”_

_His face fell. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were busy doing something like that.”_

_“I wouldn’t expect you to know. I didn’t tell you.” There was the distinct sound of something rustling while Ren was greeted with a long silence. “Can you take a raincheck? In a few days, perhaps?”_

_“Only if you’re prepared to lose.”_

_He could hear the smirk Akechi had over the phone when he answered, “On the contrary, not being hounded by Shido has given me boundless time to improve. I’m more worried about you, Amamiya. I hope that shogi master of yours taught you how to lose with grace. You’ll need it.”_

_Ren grinned. “You’re on_.”

At the time, he’d been more focused on the back half of the conversation. The promise of a personal rematch that never came. At some point between unpacking and finding the glove again, he was reminded of it full force.

Akechi didn’t seem to want a headstone for himself. He seemed, to Ren at least, perfectly content to quietly disappear from the correct timeline without a single person knowing of his passing. But he, all things considered, loved his mother. Enough to kill the man who caused her suffering, certainly, even if he buried it under resentment for how it all affected him. If he was going to make sure anyone deserved to be known, it was her.

“It’s not like it won’t say _Akechi_ on it. It still will.” He shoved his hands back into his pockets. “It just won’t say Goro. It’ll say….”

“You don’t know his mom’s first name, don’t you,” Morgana said flatly. 

“Um,” he shifted from one foot to another “no?”

Morgana groaned the best a cat could. “Can you please just ask someone? We’ll be here all day if you really think you can just read headstones all day to find some headstone you think he set up for his mother.”

“I don’t think--”

“Oh what a cute cat!” a feminine voice chirped.

Ren looked up to the source of their interruption. Standing nearby Morgana was a young woman with shoulder length black hair. She looked fitting for a cemetery, although not a cemetery in February, with her black tank top, ruffled black skirt and fishnet stockings. She was pretty, almost oddly otherworldly so, even if the Eye of Horus drawn on her eye was a little strange. Then again, Ren wasn’t about to comment publicly on strangeness when he was just caught arguing with his cat.

“You know, in some cultures black cats are considered omens of death. Even such smart ones like I’m sure he is,” she said amiably. “Guess it’s fitting you’re traveling with one so interested in the headstones, right?”

Morgana meowed loudly in agreement, forcing an eye roll out of Ren.

“Don’t compliment him too much, it’ll go to his head.” He let out a short chuckle as he tried to calm his nerves. “Can I ask who you are?”

“Nobody important.” She flashed him a smile, showing off teeth that looked too-white against the black lipstick. “I frequent this place, is all and happened to hear you were looking for an Akechi. Is that true?”

He nodded. Morgana made his way back over, settling on walking next to the young woman. 

_For someone insistent he’s not a cat he’s such a cat_ , Ren thought lightly _, A stranger compliments him once and that’s his new best friend._

God, how lucky someone who knew where the headstone was. If Akechi knew, he’d comment about Ren’s uncanny knack to run into just the right people, how lucky he was, how if only that kicked in earlier--

“Well here, let me help you. It’s a bit out of the way. I think whoever placed it wanted a bit of privacy.”

 _That sounds like Akechi_ , he thought. Still, he let the young woman lead him through winding paths until eventually, finally, she stopped in front of a sparse selection of moss-covered stones not far from a small grove. The one labeled _Akechi Hinawa_ stood underneath a lone cherry tree right on the outskirts. Compared to the others, it looked newer. Only a few patches near the ground showed any moss, and at least one spot looked cleaned off. Probably strangers trying to keep it somewhat neat.

He walked slowly up to Ms. Akechi’s headstone. The woman didn’t necessarily follow, but she didn’t leave either. Maybe, in that moment, she realized he might need someone there for support. She said she frequented cemeteries, right? She probably saw this all the time. And doing this with a stranger felt better. His friends might judge him. But this woman, if she knew Akechi at all, only knew the one on the TV. She didn’t even know he was dead. There was nothing to judge, as far as she knew at least.

Ren set the first bouquet down first wordlessly. He didn’t know Akechi’s mom. He never would. Still, the way Akechi spoke about her, she sounded like she did the best she could considering her circumstances. She deserved _someone_ remembering her positively. 

When he set the second bouquet down, Morgana walked back up to him, tail wrapping loosely around Ren’s leg. “Dr. Maruki said saying something might help,” he reminded him quietly. 

Ren nodded mutely, blinking away tears he barely registered. What was there to say? There were so many things left unsaid between the two of them, questions that never got answered for one reason or another, he wasn’t about to ask them now. It was too late to ever get an actual answer. His immediate thought was to tell Akechi to stop the ruse and come back to life this instant, but somehow he’s pretty sure telling someone who so clearly wanted to be dead, “ _don’t be dead_ ” didn’t sit right with him.

“It’s unusual to bring two bouquets,” the woman piped up from behind. 

“Yeah uh, one’s from an acquaintance of mine. He couldn’t make it today,” Ren stood up. “He had ah...obligations.”

“Must be close friends to bring flowers for him,” she said.

“I’m not sure we were.” Ren furrowed his brow. “He’d call us rivals if he were able to make it with me.”

“Rivals can be friends too.” She laughed, the sound weirdly soothing. “Some of the best rivalries are also friendships.”

Ren hummed. “Even if he won’t call it that?”

“Sometimes how _you_ qualify it is all that’s important.” She came up to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Some people are just slow to the uptake, that’s all.”

He let his thoughts linger. Do friends go to cafes and jazz lounges with only each other, making comments about how Ren is his _first_ to take there? Do they simultaneously evade questions while flirting, talking about wearing each other's clothes, take each other to popular date spots, and make casual passes about how tight the leather Joker’s outfit is? Do friends make their life’s wish to bring back someone who died, all over an unfinished duel? 

He knew his answer, and his useless pining over his crush made him the private mess he was now. He didn’t imagine Akechi felt anything more than rivals. Maybe friends. But maybe it was better Akechi never knew. If he were still alive, knowing Ren was so weak over just a crush, it’d only make things more complicated than they already were. 

When he brought his hands to his pockets again, his left hand brushed against something leather.

Akechi’s glove. Right. With everything else, he forgot he brought it.

The thought crossed his mind to leave it there too, but he shook his head. No. Akechi gave it to him in a fit of anger. To give it back so freely, even post mortem... 

Well, Akechi would never want it back without a fight.

He leaned down, touching the bouquet with hyacinths. The woman stepped away again, likely to give him space. 

_She probably knows he’s dead_ , Ren thought distantly. _She knows a celebrity just disappearing like that isn’t normal_.

“Hey, Goro. I’m keeping your glove. Hope you don’t mind, seeing you threw it at me and never tried to get it back. Guess you knew we still had unfinished business huh?” He smiled, which felt strange considering the growing lump in his throat that made his voice waver. “Well, you’ll get it back when you keep your promise. If you’re not the first person I see when I cross into Hell, I’ll know it was more hot air.” He closed his eyes. “And when I win, I’ll finally make you some of my curry.”

The word _curry_ didn’t quite come out right, what with the choked sob that forced itself out of Ren’s throat. “And if you throw that match I _swear--_ ” Ren barely understood what he was saying now, the stupid crying making it hard to hear himself “--I’ll find a way to kill you again myself.”

Morgana found his way over to him again as the tears came out in earnest now, pushed against his arm and purring. They were like that for a few minutes, until slowly the tears dried up and Ren’s body did little more than shiver in the cold.

“Ready?” the woman asked.

Ren nodded. He stood up on wobbly legs. The world tilted in his attempt, but he managed to steady himself well enough. “I...I think so,” he said shakily. 

She patted his shoulder again. “You can lean on me if you need to. It’s hard losing someone so close to you. Or dubiously close. But what you did was hard. And, if it helps,” she paused and let her gaze flit over to the headstone, “I think it’s a step in the right direction. There’s not many wrong ways to grieve, after all.”

He did as she suggested, immediately grabbing onto her arm for balance. Unsurprisingly enough, her skin felt frigid in this weather. Ren had to wonder how she felt so comfortable. “Thanks.”

“It’s not a problem. When you’re someone like me, someone who frequents cemeteries, you see it a lot. Even acknowledging the person’s death is hard for a lot of people.” She pried his hand off her in exchange for wrapping a thin arm around him to keep him up. “Now come on, I think it’s time for you to go home.”

* * *

Goro waited until the strange woman walked away, Ren in tow, before he walked out of the grove. Leave it to him, _of all people_ , to come here at the same time as Goro. While Goro was still required to be in hiding, no less. 

To mourn. Over _him_.

There were far better people in Ren’s periphery to mourn than him. People with far smaller body counts. And yet, here he was, exactly one year after the both of them thought Goro would die. 

He walked over to his mother’s headstone gingerly, as if any minute the whole thing was going to shatter and he was going to find himself staring at her corpse again, like in the nightmares. It didn’t. All it did was put him face to face with two bouquets of flowers. One for his mother (Goro would process Ren bothering to give flowers to a woman he never met later), and another for _him_. For Goro Akechi, the same person who tried to kill him barely over a year ago. From the same person who Goro realized he had a hopeless, futile crush on since June, even knowing it was going to end badly. Like everything always did for him.

He watched the whole thing happen and he was still surprised by the whole thing. 

Goro picked up the one Ren touched when he overheard the speech. After a quick deliberation, he grabbed the flowers for his mother, too. They wouldn’t do any good here. Not while he’s still alive to tend to them.

“You’d like him, Mom,” he muttered softly. “Assuming you were fine with it being a boy. But, if my memory serves me right, you accepted much about me while I was alive. Whether that was a farce or not I’m not sure but...I’d like to believe it’s true.”

He said the same thing when Ren called him asking for a game of pool, and his instant apologies when he realized where Goro was. In hindsight, he should’ve invited Ren with him. The company would’ve been appreciated, the same way the goth woman helped Ren. But for someone like his mom that felt like stepping over a boundary they never crossed, nor was he going to cross thinking he was about to die.

“And as for Ren.” He glanced curiously at the bouquet Ren touched, the one obviously for him. The purple hyacinths were an interesting touch. He made a mental note to Google the meaning later. “Don’t worry, I’ll accept his challenge. It will be much sooner than he expects, however. After I finish this the right way.”

There were too many remaining members of Shido’s Anti Social Force. Too many people who deserved a lifetime behind bars for their crimes, with Goro Akechi being one of the few willing to rat them all out. And if they knew not only _he_ was alive and well, but someone who was undoubtedly a point of weakness for Goro _and_ responsible for Shido’s change of heart? 

No. It was better for Ren to think he’s dead now and keep him safe from this mess, over the comfort of having Ren now just for something to happen to him. Ren had enough hell in one year because of himself and Shido. It was irresponsible to thrust him into more.

He let a finger trace one of the leaves of the flower and cracked a smirk. “For my sake, let’s hope his curry is as good as his coffee.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, yes I headcanon both Akechi and Futaba as having read all of Homestuck. Futaba is completely shameless in her interest and Akechi hides it except in instances where he can be smug about knowing something seemingly "high brow" when it's just....it's just Homestuck. I also have a firm theory Naoto had a Superwholock phase. This is what brainrot does to you.
> 
> Edit: i forgot. Here's my [Tumblr](chuckling-chemist.tumblr.com) and my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/stormscourge) if you want to see more cursed headcanons


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